Three Years Ago Today

I was watching my father die. It would be his last day with us.

It was, without a doubt, the most difficult time of my life. In the weeks preceding the 27th of April, 2007, I watched him stop eating. He slept for hours a day. He soiled himself and was humiliated by the failure and betrayal of his body.

Three years ago today, I sat in his bedroom, singing to him, playing *his* guitar, while he barely smiled. Still, I could tell he was happy, even if I could not complete any song without losing my voice. But no matter how poorly I sang, every time I looked over, he was smiling.

I struggled with his earnest request to "help him" to give him enough morphine so that he could "go". I remember, heartbroken, telling him I'd look into it, even though he was asking me to kill him. I agonized for days as I researched how much a dosage he would need to be done, to do for him the last thing he asked of me. And, in the end, he saved me from that decision. The next morning, he made his own decision. He saved me from having to kill him. Thank you for that, my father.

Like I said, it was the hardest time in my life.

So, I'd like to thank some people who were there for me in ways only they could help.

Denise, my wife. You gave me immeasurable support during this time. You were there for him in so many ways, which meant you were there for me. I don't think I can thank you enough. Thank you for loving me, for loving him, and being there.

Jessica and Sarah, my daughters. You each were there for me in ways, not so much substantial but with a presence that reassured me during this difficult time. It was so important to me.

Kerry, my present wife and partner. Though you never got to meet him, and were thrown into the after-drama of his death, you accepted it with a grace and purpose that cemented my love for you.

Jack, good and trusted friend. Thank you for talking me through the myriad questions of what Dad wanted and helping me figure out if I could give him what he wanted, even though I didn't have to. I don't think I could have had that conversation with anyone else.

Marla, my good friend and confidant. You helped me through an aftermath of his death that no one should ever endure. Your patience and validation was everything I needed. Thank you.

So that is today. I have no idea what tomorrow will be like. At 8:30 in the morning tomorrow I have a conference call. I will be at work, so I figured it would be better to get this out today.